What does an artist do when he needs inspiration? Travel to Paris and hang out on the Left Bank? Stow away on a ship bound for Tahiti? Not the lonely potter. He heads into the bush and starts clearing. And clearing. And clearing. As the dead and dying trees come down, sunlight gets to places it hasn't been for years, and new grass starts to show through the detritus. Maybe it's a metaphor for clearing the mind and getting a fresh start.
Winter took a break in February and forgot to come back until April, so for most of February and all of March, the lonely potter abandoned the pottery studio for the great outdoors, and set to work with his chainsaw. His goal was to create a park from an unkempt piece of land. There were other benefits, like lots of firewood put away for winters to come; sick little trees finding new life as fence poles; big, dead trees assigned to the sawmill, to be turned into boards and lumber; and, unexpectedly, a holiday from pain. Maybe he was just too busy to think about pain, but there is no doubt that after six weeks of hard labour, he was sleeping better and moving easier than he has for years. Whatever has happened, it is wonderful. Maybe, with the sun shining in and the aches and pains of arthritis at bay, the studio will begin to look more appealing soon. Unless, of course, the sawmill, the fence mending, and the firewood spliting chores call their sirene calls, and the clay is forced to sit idle for a few more months.
What will the spring bring?
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